Saturday Poetry Corner: The Wonderer

" I will confess and praise You for You are fearful and wonderful and
for the awful wonder of my birth!  Wonderful are Your works, and 
that my inner self knows right well.  My frame was not hidden from
You when I was being formed in secret and intricately and curiously
wrought, as if embroidered with various colors, in the depths of
the earth, a region of darkness and mystery.  Your eyes saw my
unformed substance, and in Your book all the days of my life
were written before ever they took shape, when as yet
there were none of them."
(Psalm 139: 14-16)

Image courtesy/Pinterest

I wish that I could understand

The moving marvel of my Hand;

I watch my fingers turn and twist,

The supple bending of my wrist,

The dainty touch of finger-tip,

The steel intensity of grip;

A tool of exquisite design,

With pride I think: "It's mine! It's mine!"

Then there's the wonder of my Eyes,

Where hills and houses, seas, and skies,

In waves of light converge and pass,

And print themselves as on glass.

Line, form and color live in me;

I am the Beauty that I see;

Ah! I could write a book of size

About the wonder of my Eyes.

What of the wonder of my Heart,

That plays so faithfully its part?

I hear it running sound and sweet;

It does not seem to miss a beat;

Between the cradle and the grave

It never falters, stanch and brave.

Alas! I wish I had the art

To tell the wonder of my Heart.

Then oh! but how can I explain

The wondrous wonder of my Brain?

That marvellous machine that brings

All consciousness of wonderings;

That lets me from myself leap out

And watch my body walk about;

It's hopeless-all my words are vain

To tell the wonder of my Brain.

But do not think, O patient friend,

Who reads these stanzas to the end,

That I myself would glorify...

You're just as wonderful as I,

And all Creation in our view

Is quite as marvellous as you.

Come, let us on the sea-shore stand

And wonder at a grain of sand;

And then into the meadow pass

And marvel at a blade of grass;

Or cast our vision high and far

And thrill with wonder at a star;

A host of stars-night's holy tent

Hugh-glittering with wonderment.

If wonder is in great and small,

Then what of Him who made it all?

In eyes and brain and heart and limb

Let's see the wondrous work of Him.

In house and hill and sward and sea,

In bird and beast and flower and tree,

In everything from sun to sod,

The wonder and the awe of God.

In the above passages from Psalm 139, David likens the womb to
"a place of darkness and mystery"-picture a subterranean tunnel or cavern-
"in the depths of the earth."  "As if embroidered with various colors" is
based on the word, "ragam" which in the Hebrew language refers to
someone skilled in needlework, thus, we have been, "intricately and
curiously wrought" or woven together in our mother's womb.

From "unformed substance" God created all human beings to
bare His likeness and to reflect His glory.   

To destroy a child in the womb through the act of abortion is
to murder the very likeness and image of God Himself.

May God bless and protect the American Pro-life Movement.

"The Wonderer"
Robert William Service
(1874-1958)
British-Canadian poet
Often called,
"The Bard of the Yukon"